


watersong

by crackthesky



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackthesky/pseuds/crackthesky
Summary: renfri seems a river god, sly and sweet in the current, and she is all yours.
Relationships: Renfri | Shrike/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	watersong

In the river, she seems reborn.

The dirt swirls off her in small, coiling spirals, streaking the river’s gentle current with just a hint of red. 

The sun catches on the water. It glows around her, makes her divine. Her deep brown hair has slicked almost ebony with the water’s touch. It lays against her neck like a root system, each lock of hair stark against her tanned skin.

Renfri sinks into the river water, her mouth sly. “Come here,” she coaxes. Under the water, her body is ghostly, blurred at the edges. You can still see the lean curve of her, the strength of her arms and the sapling-sturdy whip of her legs. 

You raise a brow. “Are you saying I’m dirty?”

She laughs. Her eyes are shadow dark in the sun’s bright touch, the deep brown of the forest, and they are sharp and greedy and fond. “I like the gleam of sweat on you,” she says. “It tells me where to trace my tongue.”

“Through the dirt on my skin?”

Renfri wrinkles her nose. “You don’t have to ruin it, sweetling.”

It is your turn to laugh, the sound spilling from you like the tavern’s flowing ale. Renfri beckons to you with a slender finger. She has delicate hands, you know, the hands of a princess, fine-boned and made for stacks of thin, intricate rings. But you know better. They are work rough against your skin, all scraping calluses sending pricks of feeling gliding up your spine. You know what those hands are capable of. Seen them glisten with blood before she washes it away, but with you - with you, her touch is reverent. 

You start to unlace your bodice. You’d been working the fields, the damp loam thick between your fingers, when Renfri arrived with a sunrise smile curving her pink lips. Dirt is not unknown to you, but with the river cool and refreshing on a warm summer afternoon - who are you to deny a pretty woman?

Renfri sinks beneath the water to watch you undress, her lips hidden under the surface. Her eyes are dark, dark, dark as they linger on your skin as you strip. Your skirts puddle on the ground around your feet and then you are in the river. The water bites crisp and cold against your heated skin. It pulls a sharp yelp from somewhere deep in your lungs, and Renfri laughs low and sweet.

“Come here,” she murmurs to you, splashing at you when you circle her but come no closer, your lips sunny with a smile. 

“What will you give me if I do?”

“A kiss,” she promises.

“Just one?”

“As many as you’d like,” Renfri says, her mahogany eyes sparking forge-hot. 

You relent, glide through the water like a swan to her, until she is warm against your skin. You brush her wet hair away from her face, run a gentle thumb against the soft rise of her cheekbone.

“Missed you,” you murmur.

She presses her forehead against yours, rubs the tip of her nose against your cheek. “Missed you too,” she says. 

You embrace her, drape your arms around her like river reeds. “Where is my kiss?”

There’s a laugh caught between her lips as she finds your mouth, and it tastes of summer, of soft heat and air sweetened by wildflowers. She pulls away but anoints your lips with another kiss, a benediction from a river goddess.

You should return the fields, you know, but it is early still. The crops can wait.

Renfri kisses you again as the river tugs at you with a playful current.

Her lips are sweet against yours, something downy soft in it, full of words that she can’t quite say. She pulls away after a moment. The sun catches on her mahogany hair, a golden crown gleaming on a fallen princess.

“As many as I want,” you remind her, chasing her lips. 

“As many as you want,” she says softly, her fingers gentle as she cradles your face.

In the river, you think, watching the way her lips curve into a smile before she kisses you again, she is reborn.

In the river, she’s just yours.

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for raspberrydreamclouds over on tumblr so she could have a non-angsty renfri story after i threw 'gaze upon my bones' out into the world lol
> 
> just a short lil snippet and i debated putting it up here but then again why not


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